


Legion

by Delanach



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delanach/pseuds/Delanach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to see any other way out, Dean says yes to Michael.  But the result isn't what he or the archangel expected.  When Raphael demands Sam's death, Michael rebels and with Gabriel's help, joins forces with Sam and Castiel.  Together, they face not just Lucifer, who's hell bent on forcing his vessel to say yes, but also Raphael and the host of heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Master Post

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**au_bigbang**](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/). Art by the lovely and talented [](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/profile)[**inanna_maat**](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/). Set from immediately after Dean drives away from Sam at the end of "99 Problems". A fusion of the Supernatural and Legion universes. You don't need to have watched the movie Legion to be able to read the story. Angelic lore and appearance is taken from Legion, so any deviation from SPN canon comes from the movie.

_**Legion Masterpost**_  
 **Title:** Legion  
 **Art Post:** [**Amazing Art**](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/91204.html) by [](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/profile)[**inanna_maat**](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairings:** Sam/Dean, Sam/Michael  
 **Characters:** Sam, Dean, Michael, Lucifer, Castiel, Gabriel, Raphael, Chuck as occasional narrator, mentions of Bobby.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 16,120  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.  
 **Notes:** Written for the [](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**au_bigbang**](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/). Art by the lovely and talented [](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/profile)[**inanna_maat**](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/). Set from immediately after Dean drives away from Sam at the end of "99 Problems". A fusion of the Supernatural and Legion universes. You don't need to have watched the movie Legion to be able to read the story. Angelic lore and appearance is taken from Legion, so any deviation from SPN canon comes from the movie.

 **Summary:** Unable to see any other way out, Dean says yes to Michael. But the result isn't what he or the archangel expected. When Raphael demands Sam's death, Michael rebels and with Gabriel's help, joins forces with Sam and Castiel. Together, they face not just Lucifer, who's hell bent on forcing his vessel to say yes, but also Raphael and the host of heaven.

  


  


  


  


[Part One](http://delanach.livejournal.com/31218.html)

//[Part Two](http://delanach.livejournal.com/31379.html)//[Part Three](http://delanach.livejournal.com/31507.html)  


  


  


[Art Post](http://inanna-maat.livejournal.com/91204.html)

  


  


AO3 Link to follow soon

  


  


  



	2. Legion Part One

_  
**Legion Part One**   
_   


  


  


As he drove away from Sam, Dean didn't know if it was a moment of determination or a moment of weakness that had given him the clarity of mind needed to make the decision. He could have done it there and then, screamed yes to the heavens and let Michael take him, but he couldn't have stood the look of betrayal he knew would have been on Sam's face. He put his foot on the gas, not looking back.

He would do this for Sam, for all of them, and pray that the promises he would extract would be honored. Spare Sam and Castiel. Keep Bobby and Lisa and Ben safe. That's all he would ask. That, and Dean wanted to kill Zachariah himself. He wanted to see the fucker fry slowly from the inside, wanted him to know that he’d been expendable all along.

Knowing that his brother wouldn’t be far behind him, Dean drove until a new day began to light the sky, a slim sliver of blood red dawn on the horizon. There was a church on a hill overlooking the next town he approached. Old, with a spire that pierced the early morning glow. Dean imagined that it could rip through the fabric of the world, opening heaven and spilling angels out of the tear.

He drew up outside the church, parking the Impala out front where Sam would see her when he arrived. Sam would need her. She could shelter him as she'd sheltered them both all their lives, keep him safe. Dean got out of the car and smoothed his hand down over the leather of his father’s jacket one last time. It had served him well, with its pockets full of salt and holy water, guns and knives. He slipped it off his shoulders and laid it in the trunk, trying not to think of the man that had given it to him. He didn’t know what John would have thought of him, giving in like he was about to, but then, in an unremembered past, John had done the same himself to save Mary. Maybe he would understand that Dean was doing the same to save Sam and hopefully a lot of people who would otherwise die in the crossfire of an angel and demon war.

With a sigh, he closed the trunk, steeled himself and went inside the church. It was warmer than he expected. Old wooden pews were worn in the way that came from being well used. There were flowers on the altar, still fresh. It was a place that was loved by the people who worshiped there, a fitting place for the sacrifice he was about to make, a fitting place for the salvation of mankind to begin.

Dean walked to the altar, soft footfalls on the worn boards. He turned, looking out over the empty church, closed his eyes and opened his heart. He did what he'd been afraid to do before now, he let himself fully accept his decision, and even before he shouted yes into the quiet morning, the church began to shake. He prayed, for the first time in so long, not just with words, but with his soul, demanding that his conditions be met.

Around him, the air began to glow, soft at first, as if the sun was rising inside the church. He felt it, the moment his pleas were accepted. Agreement washed through him, and a distinctive angel’s blade appeared at his feet. He bent down to pick it up and when he raised his head again, Zachariah was standing in front of him. There was triumph on his face, but Dean knew that he was also a sacrifice.

A life for a life.

Zachariah glared at Dean and gestured with his hand, the expression on his face slowly turned to one of horror when Dean stayed exactly where he was and didn’t fall to the ground in pain as he’d intended him to do.

"All out of juice?" Dean sneered. "I've been looking forward to this for a _very_ long time."

He twisted the blade in his hand and slammed it up through Zachariah's throat, snarling at him as he twisted it, relishing the shock in the eyes staring back at him.

"That's for everything you've done to us, you son of a bitch." Dean drew the blade half out, then slammed it home again. Zachariah's form twisted and jerked. Instinctively, Dean covered his eyes, crouching down and shielding his head as the angel blew apart from the inside. After the noise had died down, Dean got to his feet and looked down at the body, it's charcoal wings spread wide. He spared a thought for the devout man that Zachariah had used as a meat suit. Probably some poor deluded sap who thought he was doing the Lord’s work when he gave himself up for possession.

Maybe I'm the same, Dean thought. There were no guarantees that by doing this, he'd be helping to save the world. He knew that angels couldn’t be trusted any more than demons could. But he’d seen the future, and he was out of options. If he did this, let Michael use him, then Sam would never have to let the devil in.

The light around him intensified, along with the whining scream he knew was Michael approaching to take what was his. Dean spread his arms wide in an echo of Zachariah's death, and closed his eyes, giving himself up and welcoming the archangel in …

  
From the outside, it looked as if the church was full of light, brighter than the sun, then it was gone.

With a screech of brakes, Sam pulled up next to the Impala in a car from the motel parking lot that he’d hotwired so he could follow Dean. He wrenched the door open and jumped out, running towards the church as Castiel got out of the other side. He moved slower, his vessel suffering from the after effects of the alcohol he’d drunk the day and night before.

As Sam neared the church, the doors blew apart with a splintering of wood. Sam was knocked on his back with the force of the blast and watched with horror as the angel wearing his brother’s body walked over to where he was lying. Sam heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him as Castiel caught sight of Michael inhabiting Dean’s body.

Michael turned first to Castiel, his now blue eyes shining bright with righteous power. He placed a hand on the angel’s chest, but instead of restoring him as Sam expected, Castiel howled in pain as Michael ripped what was left of his power from him.

“No!!” Sam yelled, crawling to Castiel’s side and glaring up at the angel who had taken his brother from him.

"Sam,” Michael’s voice was steady, but there was a quiet menace to it that sent a chill down Sam’s spine. “Dean’s last wish was for you to be safe, and I will honor that request, but there is one last thing that I would ask of you."

Sam looked up into Michael's face, shocked at the stranger’s eyes that stared back at him. Even without the change in color, the gaze was too calm, too disconnected to belong to Dean.

"I’m not doing anything for you.” Sam was defiant.

Michael ignored him and slammed his hand against Sam's chest, pushing him to the floor. Pain blossomed across Sam’s sternum, pain that spread around his chest, wriggling and writhing and making him gasp. Michael bent over him, and whispered into his ear.

"Run, Sam."

There was a rush of wings, and Sam was left lying on the ground, clutching his chest. Castiel crawled over, his eyes widening as they helped each other to stand.

"He healed your ribs!" There was panic in the angel's voice. "You're visible again, to all of us, to …"

"To Lucifer," Sam spat out. "Can you get us out of here?"

"No!" Castiel's eyes widened even further. "He took all I had left."

"The Impala,” Sam straightened up, rubbing his ribs. "There's hex bags in the trunk. They'll hide us from angels and demons."

"I’m not sure how useful they’ll be against archangels."

"Fuck!" Sam yelled as they ran towards the car anyway.

He opened the trunk, and rummaged around, pulling out the two hex bags he'd made to Ruby's recipe. He thrust one at Castiel and stuffed one in his own pocket.

Castiel nodded his approval.

"They won't hide us entirely, but they may make it hard for Lucifer to pinpoint where we are."

"They’ll blur our signal?"

"I think that's how you'd say it."

"He's using me as bait," Sam growled.

"It would appear so. Dean would be pissed."

The unexpected statement, coming from Castiel, made Sam snort. "He didn't think this through, did he?"

"He thought he was saving you from Lucifer."

Sam didn't reply. He grabbed his bag and Dean’s from the stolen car, and stashed them safely away in the Impala. He wished Dean was there in front of him so he could lash out at him, but he never would be again. Whatever happened now, he had to make his brother's sacrifice worth something. He pulled the hex bag out of his jacket, and threw it on the ground, stomping on it with the heel of his boot until it was dust. Then he turned and lifted his hands to the sky.

"Lucifer! Come and get me!"

"Sam, no!" Castiel held the hex bag Sam had given him out towards the hunter, but Sam shook his head and danced away.

"Michael won't let this happen. Lucifer!" Sam screamed out the fallen angel's name, screamed himself hoarse, until he gave up, frustration and anger still holding his grief at bay.

He rested his arms on the Impala’s roof, letting his head drop. When he looked up, there was a handful of people cautiously making their way towards the church. They’d been drawn by the light and the noise and had seen Michael leave.

Sam climbed into the car to find the keys in the ignition. He sighed and shook his head as Castiel sat down heavily in the passenger seat and closed the door.

“Let’s get out of here. If Lucifer wants me, he can find me.”

  


A handful of states away, at the moment that Dean gave himself up to Michael, Lucifer raised his head, drawing a harsh breath into lungs that were failing hour by hour.

“My brother has his vessel,” he announced to the almost empty room.

Meg stood by the door, deciding that silence was the best course of action. As the body Lucifer inhabited continued to decay around him, his rage had grown. No-one was safe from his wrath, not even his most fanatical devotees.

“How hard can it be to find one human boy?” Lucifer roared, rounding on Meg.

His eyes blazed, and she could have sworn she could see hell fire burning in them.

“Soon, my lord, soon he’ll be yours. The fallen angel, Castiel? It’s believed that he’s with the vessel. He isn’t hidden from us, and it’s been reported that he grows more human by the day. I believe that if we find him, we’ll find Sam Winchester.”

Lucifer nodded, his eyes narrowing as pain lanced through his abdomen. His temporary vessel wouldn’t last much longer, it was dying by degrees no matter how much blood he consumed to keep it strong.

“Drain me another.”

Meg nodded and left the room, hurrying to the kitchen at the back of the house they had made their staging post. Reuben waited for her.

“He needs more.”

Reuben blanched, shaking his head. “If he takes many more of us, there’ll be no-one left to enjoy his reign.”

“Shut the fuck up and do it.”

The door behind them slammed open and Lucifer stood there, eyes gleaming.

“I can feel him. Destroy this place, it’s no longer needed.”

  


Michael headed to Detroit. He wanted to see for himself the carnage his brother was leaving in his wake. He alighted upon the tallest of the broken buildings in the wasteland that now made up half of the city. The evidence that Lucifer had felt Michael take possession of his vessel was clear to see in the still smoking wrecks of houses and cars and the bodies that littered the ground.

Michael stretched his arm out, curling his hand into a fist and then flexing his fingers. He rolled his shoulders back, testing the way the muscles bunched and lengthened. It had been a while since he’d spent any significant time in a vessel, and none of them had been built for him as this one had. Down the years, he’d occasionally been forced to inhabit a vessel from the chosen bloodline, but none, not even John Winchester, had felt completely right.

Dean fit him perfectly. He was a feat of genetic engineering, a triumph that had been thousands of years in the making.

Michael could feel Dean, trapped in his own body, unable to control it. He could feel him seething with rage at what had been done to his brother, feel the strong sensation of judgment that Dean was leveling at him, disappointment with a touch of hatred thrown in. Michael ignored it and as he gazed out over the ruined city, he heard the flutter of wings behind him. He turned to find Raphael and Gabriel looking at him expectantly. Raphael with pride and arrogance, Gabriel with curiosity and a little sadness. Michael looked at him, his blue eyes looking out of place to Gabriel who had been the focus of Dean’s green eyed glare more than once.

"You knew my vessel."

"I did. He was the one that convinced me that it was time to make a choice and take a stand, not hide away among the pagans."

"And you chose to stand with me? Then I'm grateful to him."

"Will he survive?” Gabriel asked.

"That depends.” Michael had every intention of making sure his vessel wasn’t damaged, but there were no guarantees.

Gabriel nodded.

"Why do you care about one mud monkey?" Raphael sneered.

"Dean was … unique. As is only fitting, given he is Michael's vessel," Gabriel chose his words carefully. He didn’t like being back in the nest of vipers that was his family, but Dean had been right. He couldn’t sit back and do nothing. This way, he might be able to influence events. It was what he was good at, after all.

Raphael turned away, dismissing Gabriel and addressing Michael. "Lucifer is no longer here."

"I know, but he left his mark on the place." Michael gazed out over the ruined buildings, letting his senses guide him. "There," he announced, and took off, swooping down towards an old cinema. He stood in the middle of the deserted street, searching for what had drawn him to the spot.

A demon emerged from the shadows, walking towards Michael, glancing up at the sky as Gabriel and Raphael landed behind him.

“Greetings from your esteemed brother Lucifer, the Bringer of Light, the Star of the Morning.”

Behind him, Michael could feel Raphael bristle and hear Gabriel mutter as the demon bowed low, sweeping his hand across the ground theatrically before standing up straight again, and looking Michael in the eye.

“He will meet you on a field of his choosing, at a time of his choosing and not before.” The demon swaggered closer. “And he sends you a gift.”

Now the demon swept his arm out to the side, as a rustling noise began and rapidly grew closer. The demon leapt out of the way as a hoard of rabid plague ridden demons poured from the cinema straight towards the archangels.

They could have taken flight, could have left the demons to rage below them, but it had been a long time since Michael had fought in earthly form. With a roar, he threw himself towards the first of the infected demons, and dispatched it with ease. One after another after another, they fell. Michael used the angel blade to slow them down, stabbing and hacking at the deranged creatures, then dispatching them back to where they came from. Gabriel and Raphael did the same, none of them taking many hits as the rush of the fight spurred them on.

Around them, drawn by the threat to Michael, more of the host of heaven appeared, until their numbers overwhelmed the demons. As the last of them were dispatched, the host tore at the vessels until there was nothing left of them but bloody stains on the ground.

Lastly, Michael caught up with the first demon, who had been watching from a safe spot half way down the street. He tried to duck down an alley, but Michael caught him by the scruff of the neck.

“Please! I’m only the messenger. Please don’t …” His pleading was cut short as Michael stabbed his chest and pulled out the demon.

“He plays games with us!” Raphael shouted as he and Gabriel caught up with Michael.

“When the time is right, I will stop him.”

"This is the beginning of what will be a great victory, my brother.” Raphael raised his arms and turned to the gathered angels. “Once Lucifer is dead, the host of heaven will sing your name for ages to come."

Michael watched him, shaking his head. "There is much work to be done. Lucifer’s forces and followers must be dealt with."

"Starting with the vessel!" Raphael shouted, to a roar of agreement.

"Lucifer's vessel will be useful to us." Michael turned from Raphael and addressed the host. “There is a plague of demons loose on the land. They must be dealt with, swiftly. Lucifer’s followers must pay the price for their choices so that humanity may survive. Do as my Father wishes.”

He raised his sword to the sky in a salute and the host took to the air, scattering in all directions to carry out their commanders orders.

“Humanity? That wasn’t the plan,” Raphael hissed.

“The plan is to save as many innocents as possible while ridding the earth of the demonic threat my brother unleashed upon it.”

“The plan was apocalypse, a new beginning. To create a new world, a better world.”

“It is not what my Father would have wished.”

“God is dead, Michael.”

Michael snarled, surging forward and pushing Raphael back against the wall of the burned out cinema.

“Never speak of Him in that way. We do His will, as we always have. The apocalypse was never my plan. Zachariah took liberties in my name, as did you. Now it’s time to finish this as He would want it finished.”

He let go of Raphael and took a step back, staring his brother down, aware of the fury that boiled in his eyes.

“You know what to do.”

Raphael inclined his head, and left, soaring high in the sky, heading west.

“You’ve changed,” Gabriel observed. “You knew all about Zachariah’s plans, hell, you gave him orders, and now you’ve changed your mind? Can’t say I’m sorry about that, but I am wondering why.”

“I’ve seen what my brother did to this place, and I can’t allow it to continue. Being here, finally, has opened my eyes and reminded me that God loved them, all of them. This, all this devastation, is my fault. Lucifer is insane. I put him in the cage and left him there in the dark. I made him this way."

"You did what you had to do. You can't blame yourself for protecting the world," Gabriel reasoned.

"I should have found another way, I shouldn't have blindly followed my Father's orders."

"What's done is done …"

Michael rounded on Gabriel. "He's my brother!"

Gabriel stepped back, uncertain who was speaking from Dean's mouth. Michael had always been the good son, he followed God's orders without question, but now things were different. God was gone, and Michael was faltering.

"You can't let what's long past distract you from what must be done now. You have a chance to redeem yourself. Lucifer is beyond reasoning with, and he's hell bent on destroying the world. This isn't just between you and him anymore. Look into your heart," Gabriel implored. "It's your duty to save as many as you can, to stop Lucifer. This pissing contest of yours isn't important anymore."

Michael felt acceptance in the back of his mind. He could reject it, could refuse to see sense, or he could take the counsel offered by his vessel and his brother. He slipped into deep thought, until Gabriel cleared his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Michael glared pointedly at Gabriel.

“I do?”

“Yes, I want you at Raphael’s side. He can be volatile.”

“Ya know, this is exactly why I left in the first place,” Gabriel grumbled as he left.

Michael watched him leave and walked over to the window of an abandoned store. He stared at his reflection, running a hand over his face.

Dean’s face.

He squinted, and turned his head, looking sideways at himself, then he moved closer and examined each feature.

Raphael had been right, and so had Gabriel. It had been his plan. The apocalypse, a renewal of the earth, a fresh start. But now? Now he knew it wasn’t the right course of action. He knew.

He shook his head and put a hand over his face.

“What have you done to me?” he muttered, almost expecting an answer to come from his mouth. “You are my vessel, not my conscience. I could leave you a drooling mess if I chose to,” he growled, knowing it was useless.

With a sigh, he spread his wings and took to the sky, soaring high.

  


  


  
Sam’s cell rang as he drove towards South Dakota. He knew who it was by the ring tone.

“He’s done it Bobby. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Ah hell, Sam, I’m sorry. I’ve been watching the news on TV. Looks like they’ve started cleaning house. It doesn’t look pretty. Come on home, son.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ve got Cas with me too. I don’t think he’s got much angel left in him.”

“Poor bastard. See you soon, you hear me?”

“Yeah Bobby, I hear you.”

Two hours later, Sam’s cell rang.

“Hey Bobby, what’s up?”

“Change of plan. You’ll never be able to get across the path the angels are cutting across the country. Hole up somewhere safe until this is over. I’ll call as soon as it’s clear.”

Sam ended the call and looked over at Cas.

“Change of plan. Your angel buddies are in the way so we can’t make it to Bobby’s.”

“They aren’t my buddies,” Castiel grumbled.

Sam sighed. He wanted to rage at the sky, gank as many demons and angels as he could, he wanted to get so wasted that he couldn’t remember his own name, never mind Dean’s. But he had to stay focused, stay on mission.

He steeled himself and headed towards a disused motel he and Dean had found a month before. They stopped at a mini mart along the way, stocking up on food. Before they set off, Castiel dug a bottle of Dean’s whiskey out of the trunk and had clutched it to his chest protectively as he climbed in the car next to Sam. Sam didn’t have the heart to make him go cold turkey and sober up.

  


Michael led the heavenly host into battle against the forces that Lucifer had unleashed on the world. There was collateral damage, but a fraction of the carnage that would have resulted had Lucifer been in Sam and in possession of his full power. Storms raged, the earth quaked and in places, people ran for their lives in the face of battles they could hardly comprehend.

All the while, Raphael watched Michael from the sidelines. He saw that the ruthless power still remained, the determination and dedication to the cause, but where he would have trampled over all in his path previously, now he detoured around pockets of humanity, sparing them where possible. Raphael watched and wondered.

One night, as Michael walked alone, contemplating his next course of action, he was struck by a revelation that filled his heart with unexpected dread. It was the first time in so long that God had given a command, and it was one he couldn’t carry out. Sensing that he was no longer alone, he turned to find Gabriel and Raphael standing close by.

“Our Father wants the vessel to be destroyed,” Raphael stated, aware that Michael would have received the same revelation as he had.

“He is still of use to us,” Michael dismissed the idea. “I gave my vessel my word that his brother would not be harmed. This way I keep my word and he can be used to maneuver Lucifer to exactly where we want him. There are more important things to deal with. Half the world is still infested with the demons that my brother unleashed. They must be dealt with.”

“All in good time. God wants the boy dead, Michael.”

Michael didn’t understand why the idea of slaughtering Sam Winchester disturbed him so much. He was no innocent. He had freed Lucifer. His actions had been guided by a demon, but the choices had been his to make, Michael reasoned. Michael felt a pull towards the boy, an urge to keep him alive.

“I won’t do this, Raphael.”

“You don’t have to soil your hands.”

Before he could stop him, Raphael had raised his hands to the sky.

“Sam Winchester must die! God has commanded it!”

Although the sky was empty, Michael could feel a ripple of acceptance go through the host of heaven.

“No. What God wants is not what God needs,” Michael was adamant.

Gabriel stared at him, and Raphael’s face darkened. Sam was in terrible danger, and Michael couldn’t let him die.

“You defy your Father? After all we’ve been through, you can’t turn back now, it’s too late.”

“God hasn’t given an order for a long time,” Michael spat, “and this isn’t what He needs.”

“They don’t know that,” Raphael narrowed his eyes. “They think we received revelation directly from God all along, that the path we’ve led them along was his will. Who do you think they will follow if you don’t stay with the plan?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

They faced off against each other standing almost toe to toe, glaring into each other’s eyes.

Gabriel watched, shaking his head. Nothing ever changed. Before, it had been Michael and Lucifer. Now, Raphael was facing off against his brother. All in all, Gabriel wished he could have stayed hidden among the pagan gods. At least they knew how to have a good time. He watched with sadness as his brothers spat hate at each other and wished not for the first time that Dean had kept his big mouth shut.

The argument escalated, the host of heaven closing in around them until Michael roared for silence.

“Our course of action has changed. God would want us to save as much of humanity as we can. The apocalypse will not happen, and as a symbol of that, Sam Winchester will be spared.”

Murmurs ran through the gathered angels as they weighed up what Michael had decreed. But Raphael was not about to let the matter go so easily.

“Michael defies God! Our Father requires that The Winchester boy be wiped from existence! Lucifer’s intended vessel cannot be allowed to live, it is as tainted as he was!”

“God has not commanded this,” Michael insisted.

“If God has rescinded the order, strike me down! Take your sword and smite me! Prove me wrong!”

“Uh oh,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

He’d seen what defiance had cost Castiel. Cut off from heaven, he was as good as human. If Michael was going against heaven, no matter how noble his intentions, it could end badly for all of them.

“No. I will have to kill one brother before this is finished, I’ll not kill another.”

“Let me make it easy for you.”

Raphael attacked, removing his own sword from the scabbard on his back in one fluid movement and bringing down towards Michael in what would, if his enemy had been human, have been a killing blow. Michael moved quickly, his own sword now in hand, countering Raphael’s attack.

“I will not kill you.”

“You act as though it is a foregone conclusion that you would win,” Raphael snarled. “At least you still have your arrogance, Michael.”

The mighty swords clashed again and again as both archangels moved with grace and speed, weaving away from intended blows and blocking attacks before surging forward with deadly precision.

From the sidelines, Gabriel saw Michael’s foot twist and snag slightly on a patch of rough ground. It was all Raphael needed. His sword caught Michael on his right shoulder, and the host of heaven drew breath as blood oozed from the wound.

Raphael stepped back, saluting Michael.

“In defying Our Father, you have sealed your own fate, _brother_.”

As Michael winced and held a hand to his bleeding shoulder, Raphael raised his sword. Before he could bring it down, Michael disappeared, as did Gabriel. Raphael growled in frustration, but turned to the host.

“You all witnessed Michael’s downfall. He no longer does the work of God. We must take up that mantle. Sam Winchester must die!”

  


Dean watched the battle with a detachment that he didn’t understand. It was as if he was dreaming, and his body wasn’t his concern. His only concern, as always, was Sam and Sam was in danger. Dean remembered Sam telling him that Lucifer had appeared to him in his dreams and wondered if there was a way he could do the same, since he was sharing everything else with the angel. He focused on Sam, picturing him sleeping, hair flopping down over his forehead as he hugged a pillow to his chest. Dean began to feel light headed, nauseous even, then he was falling back into darkness, down a rabbit hole straight into Sam’s dreams …

 _The sand was hot beneath Sam’s bare feet. He wriggled his toes and raised his head, seeing nothing but sand dunes rising and falling until they met the far horizon. He sighed and turned around. There was no difference. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but sand. No evidence of which way was north or south, no indication of which way would be better to go. He picked up a handful of sand, and let it drop from his fist. The sand went straight down, no wavering, no small gust of wind to disturb it’s course._

 _An unrelenting sun beat down on his shoulders and he knew he had to find shelter, knew he had to make a move, but with nothing to go on, he couldn’t decide which way to turn._

 _Panic welled up inside, deep and messy, but he forced it down. He didn’t have time for that, didn’t have time to let the loss of his brother overwhelm him. He needed to focus, needed to get himself out of this mess. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he turned around and began to walk._

 _Hours later, he was still walking, his feet sore, his shoulders burnt, his throat parched from a lack of water. Still, he put one foot in front of the other and walked straight and true. For all he knew, he could be walking in completely the wrong direction, but he was determined to stay the course he was on. No point in turning back now._

 _Another hour and he fell to his knees. Now he crawled, and he’d forgotten why he needed to keep going. There was nothing for him to fight for any more, no reason to survive. It would be easier to lie down on the sand and give up, to die right there instead of carrying on, instead of putting himself through hell for no reason._

 _But he crawled on, skinning his knees on the sand, moving until his palms were raw and tender, so much so that it hurt to put them down, but he did it anyway._

 _“Where are you going?”_

 _A familiar voice asked, but Sam ignored it._

 _“It would be easier to give up, to let go. You know that. It would be as easy as falling asleep. Lie down in the sand and leave all this behind, all the pain and hurt and grief.”_

 _“No,” Sam whispered through parched lips._

 _“Why do you still fight?”_

 _“Because I can’t give up. Don’t ask me to give up,” he pleaded._

 _“You would still fight to the end? Even though he is gone?”_

 _“Yes.” The word was savage, torn from Sam’s cracked lips._

 _“Why?”_

 _“What he did has to mean something. It has to.”_

 _“You do this for him?”_

 _“Yes.”_

 _Something changed. The relentless heat still remained, his body still ached, but beneath his hands and knees, he was now crawling onto grass, soft and moist, not the harsh grass that usually grew on the edges of desserts or the tall grass that grew in sand dunes. Sam crawled a little further before stumbling to his feet. At the center of the patch of grass was a tiny spring. He threw himself at it, gulping down what he could and splashing clean water across his face. It wasn’t enough to slake his thirst, it was just enough to make it bearable._

 _Sam turned around, and looked out over the sand. It still stretched out into the distance in every direction possible. It still went endlessly on, but the tiny oasis gave him a focal point, a pause in his relentless journey._

 _He became aware of someone standing behind him, but when he turned, the presence stayed behind him. So he stood still, and closed his eyes, relaxing as well as he could. Now the presence was a substantial form pressed against his back. A familiar scent accompanied it, a scent of warm leather and motor oil, gunpowder and something so unique that Sam whimpered._

 _Dean._

 _Arms wrapped around him, warm, soft lips kissed his neck, and Sam relaxed back. This was somewhere he could stay forever. Screw the world, screw angels and demons and their damned war. This was home, this was safety, this was where he belonged._

 _“Sorry, Sammy, you can’t stay here, neither of us can.”_

 _Sam looked down. The patch of grass was shrinking, the palm tree that had provided shade was wilting and the small spring stuttered and died as he watched._

 _“You need to leave. Now. Take Cas and go.”_

 _“What?” Sam could feel the dream slipping away and frantically turned around but there was no-one else but him standing on a dead patch of grass in the middle of a dessert._

 _“Run, Sam.”_

 _Dean’s voice echoed round his head._

 _“Run!!”_

 _A force pushed Sam forward, and he ran as if his life depended on it, legs pumping, feet finding it hard to get a grip in the loose sand._

 _“RUN!”_

Sam woke from the dream with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and looking frantically around.

“Wha …?” Cas mumbled from the other bed.

“We have to go. Now.”

Sam was already up and stuffing the few things he’d taken out of his duffle back into it.

“Where?” Cas asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He scrubbed sleep from his eyes.

“South”

 **  
[Part Two](http://delanach.livejournal.com/31379.html#cutid1)   
**


	3. Legion Part Two

_  
**Legion Part Two**   
_   
  


  


“Where are we?” Michael asked Gabriel, puzzled at the blank landscape.

“Safe, for a while. Temporarily off Raphael’s radar.”

“Why did you save me? Why not let me die?”

“Because then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take that arrogant son of a bitch out.”

“I’m the same as he is.”

“No, you _were_ the same. What if Dean was your vessel for a reason? That your true vessel isn’t a possession, but a melding? You’re different, and not just because you can’t stand the thought of killing Sam. You could have laid waste to the planet, gone along with the plan, with Raphael at your side, as happy as that fucker could ever be happy. But you instructed the heavenly host to spare humanity where it could. That would have been Father’s instruction. The only reason that the host follow Raphael is that you both had them convinced that the Apocalypse was the only way to achieve peace. But you had to know that was wrong. What if Dean isn’t allowing you to lie to yourself anymore?”

Michael stared at him.

“Not that Dean didn’t lie to himself all the time, but that’s a whole different conversation.”

“What happens now?”

“That’s still up to you. But if I was you, I’d listen to your inner Dean, see if he has any insight.”

“We need to save Sam.”

“Good start. It’s gonna be tough to find him, though.”

“He’s heading south.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw it in a dream.” Michael wasn’t ready to confess what he’d done to Sam when he’d first taken his vessel.

“Uh, angels don’t dream.”

“I know that, Gabriel.” Michael rolled his eyes.

Gabriel stared at him, not sure who he was seeing.

“Before we go, we need to arm ourselves. And we need transport. Being cut off from heaven, your powers will lessen. You need to conserve juice.”

Michael nodded.

“You ready?” Gabriel snapped his fingers and the small pocket of empty reality he’d been hiding them in split open. They stood in a warehouse full of shelves packed with every weapon imaginable.

“We need guns, right? I’ll go get us a car.”

Half an hour later, a police cruiser pulled out of the impound yard with a trunk so full of weaponry that it rivaled the Impala. Gabriel had thrown a couple of rocket launchers in there for good measure.

In all the time he’d been roaming the earth, he’d never thought that this was how it would end.

  


Sam shifted on the seat. He was too hot, could feel the sweat oozing down his back. Stupid fucking car never did have AC other than opening the windows and letting the hot air roll around inside it. Now he understood why they never drove south unless it was absolutely necessary. He shed all but one of the layers he was used to wearing in colder, damper climates. The thin grey t shirt that remained clung to him, sweat seeping into the fabric.

He hated the desert, but stared resolutely down the endless road they were driving down.

 _“Run, Sam.”_

The angel wearing Dean’s face had told him to run, and the night before, he’d dreamed of Dean telling him the same. A strong instinct told him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to argue with it.

In the seat next to him, Castiel snuffled in his sleep. Sam wondered what he was dreaming about. Michael tore his grace from him with a savagery that left Sam reeling and Castiel had been drunk since then, unable to cope with the humanity he’d been cursed with.

Sam reckoned that not being able to feel would be a blessing right now. But he hadn’t got the luxury of being able to crawl into the bottom of a bottle.

 _“Run, Sam.”_

Sam hoped that Bobby was okay. He wished he’d been able to reach the salvage yard, to lick his wounds in relative safety. Bobby’s was the nearest thing he and Dean ever had to a home, but bricks and mortar never really came into the equation. Dean was always his home. Pain tore through Sam’s chest. Losing Dean was never going to get easier, he knew that. It would always be fresh and raw.

Now, with the sigils gone from his ribs, he wasn’t safe anywhere, and he had to believe that by running in the opposite direction, Bobby would survive.

In the distance, a mirage appeared, a gas station and hopefully a diner. It wasn’t a hard decision to make, to pull over and refuel. The Impala’s tank was half full and the desert seemed to go on forever, so filling up was a practical move. Sam wasn’t hungry, he didn’t know if he ever would be again, but he understood the need to eat to keep himself going. He was too much of a solider to forget the basic principles of combat.

Soon, very soon, he was going to have to decide what to do next. He couldn’t run forever, but he wasn’t in a good enough position to put up a decent fight. He also wasn’t fool enough to think he could win, not caught in between Lucifer and Michael. He would lose, no matter what he did, but he was determined that when he did act, he’d take as many of the fuckers down with him as he could.

As the gas station became more than a dot in the distance, Sam glanced across at Cas. He needed the former angel with him, and lucid. He hoped that getting food inside him would help with that.

Five minutes later, Sam pulled the Impala over and parked up outside the dive of a diner.

“Hey, Cas, wake up.”

Sam shook Castiel’s shoulder. He stirred, but curled away from Sam. Sam shook him harder, giving him no option but to wake up.

“Yeah, okay, okay, I’m awake.” Castiel sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

“The middle of nowhere.” Sam got out of the car and stretched the kinks out of his back. He pushed the shades up the bridge of his nose and walked towards the door of the truck stop.

Castiel dragged himself out of the car, and stumbled after Sam. He reached into the coat he insisted on wearing, despite the heat, and pulled out a bottle. He tipped it up to his lips and drank down the last drops, scowling that there wasn’t any more.

Sam wandered inside and sighed when it became obvious that the air conditioning was bust and the ceiling fans only served to stir the hot air around. Cas slammed the door open behind him, and walked in, gazing around. Sam sat down at a table on the far side of the room from where the sun sneaked through drawn blinds. It was marginally cooler.

A blond waitress walked over to their table. Her name badge said Charlie and with her curly hair, she reminded Sam of Jess and a life he’d been forced to leave behind after she’d died. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if she’d lived, if Azazel hadn’t burned her up just like he’d killed his mother.

Sam didn’t smile up at Charlie, he was too burned out to care much about social niceties, especially with a woman who reminded him of a past he couldn’t have.

“What can I get you?”

“Couple of burgers, couple of beers?” Sam ordered for them both.

“And a shot of Jack?” Castiel added hopefully.

“Sorry, hon, no liquor licence.” Charlie dropped off their food order at the counter and popped open a couple of beers. She carried the drinks straight back to the table.

“Two beers.”

Castiel picked one of the bottles off the tray before she had a chance to unload them. He couldn’t risk the haze of drunkenness wearing off, not given the despair sobriety brought with it. Since Dean said yes, and the world began to deal with the fallout, Castiel hadn’t seen the need to care about anything much of anything but when Lucifer would find them, and he blocked that thought out by drinking.

They sat in silence as they waited for their food. Sam glanced around, studying the couple in the corner, and what he guessed was their teenage daughter who was trying to pretend she wasn’t with them. They were the only other customers. Sam glanced over to where the cook was finishing up with their burgers, and watched as an older guy walked out from a small office at the back.

“Eat something,” Sam growled as Charlie brought their food.

“Not hungry.” Castiel’s leg jiggled under the table, until Sam caught hold of it in a vice like grip and held it still.

“Eat something or I shoot you.” Sam’s stony gaze encouraged Cas to pick up the burger and take a bite.

  


“How do you know where Sam is?” Gabriel asked Michael again.

“I removed the sigils from his ribs.” Michael had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Ah, crap. That’s what you meant when you said he was still useful. You’re using him as bait.”

“I know now that I did the wrong thing. I’ve left him visible to heaven and hell.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I‘ve mastered the technique.”

“Good, now you need to master going faster, or there’ll be no point in any of this.” Gabriel made hurrying motions with his hands.

Michael scowled at him, but floored the police cruiser, heading in the direction he knew would lead to Sam.

  


Lucifer wheezed, gritting his teeth as he half sat half lay in the back of a Hummer that Meg was driving. No amount of blood was healing Nick anymore, and Meg cursed. She sped up, and the entourage that was following did the same, heading towards the desert.

  


Outside the diner there was a crunch on the gravel as a car drove up. The LA police cruiser that parked up next to the Impala was way off its beat. One of the men that got out walked around the Chevy, running a hand along her warm, dusty hood. Sense memories that didn’t belong to the being that now inhabited Dean Winchester’s body prickled. Michael snatched his hand away and strode purposefully towards the door. It creaked as he opened it.

Out of curiosity and a well worn sense of self preservation, Sam looked up to see who the newcomer was, to weigh up any possible threat and assess any necessary courses of action. But when he saw who it was, he dropped his burger back to the plate and pulled out his gun.

Castiel, his back to the door, looked up at Sam, eyes widening.

“Okay Sam, I’m eating.” He took a bite of his burger and talked messily around it. “No need to shoot anyone.”

Sam ignored him, slowly getting to his feet and leveling his gun at the newcomer.

The bored teenager who had been lounging in the corner booth, gasped and dropped her glass. It shattered on the floor, sharp shards and warm soda flying outwards from where it impacted.

Everyone turned to look at her, everyone apart from the tall man with the gun. The newcomer followed her gaze, and when he saw the threat, he pulled a gun of his own out, and pointed it at Sam.

“What the fuck do you want?” Sam spat, trying desperately to keep his cool despite being face to face with what looked like his brother.

“To save you.”

“Go to hell.” Sam fired without any further need for provocation. He knew it wouldn’t kill the angel, but it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to be able to strike back at the thing that had taken Dean from him. The shot grazed Michael’s shoulder. The archangel stumbled backwards, but regained his focus frighteningly fast and leveled his own gun at Sam. Without warning, Castiel slammed into Sam and sent him falling to the ground.

Michael strode towards the two men sprawling on the floor, his gun still aimed at them. Castiel scrambled to his feet, and stood between Michael and Sam.

“No!” He yelled, holding out his hands. “Don’t hurt him, you really don’t want to do that.”

“He shot first,” Michael seethed, warring with himself over whether he should shoot Sam or help him to his feet.

“Don’t you think he had reason enough?” Castiel found it hard to look upon the face of a man he’d called friend, and know that the being looking back at him wasn’t Dean anymore.

“Sam.” Michael clicked the safety back on the gun and inclined his head towards Sam.

“Bastard!” Sam yelled, suddenly on his feet and looming over the archangel.

Michael looked up at him, his eyes calm. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“You owe me nothing!” Sam shouted and punched Michael, his fist landing on the angel’s jaw and forcing his head back. Sam strode out of the diner towards the Impala, not looking back at the diner and its occupants, who were staring with fascination at the drama unfolding in front of them.

“What did you think? That you could walk in wearing his brother’s face and he’d be happy to see you? Last thing you told him was to run, and we’ve been doing that ever since.”

“Why are you still with him?”

“Sam is my friend.”

The owner of the diner walked towards Cas and Michael, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble. Can you take this outside? Well away from normal folk?”

“Outside won’t be safe for much longer.”

“What?” Cas shook his head, trying to focus on what Michael was saying.

“They are coming for him. All of them.” Michael gripped his bleeding shoulder. It stung and pain wasn’t something he was used to.

“Do you have bandages? His wound should be dressed.”

Charlie disappeared into the office, and emerged with a first aid kit. Castiel thanked her and sat Michael down at a table while he worked.

“Your vessel … Dean … shouldn’t be bleeding like this.”

“I received revelation, as did Raphael. The first time in so long that my Father has spoken, and he’s commanded Sam’s death.”

Castiel paled and his hands trembled. Michael reached up and put one of his hands over Castiel’s, but that only made it worse. It was Dean’s hand he felt, Dean’s face he was looking into, even if they weren’t Dean’s eyes looking at him.

“And you don’t agree with him?”

“I gave my word that Sam wouldn’t be harmed.”

“So now you defy our Father?”

“Dean gave himself to me so that Sam would live. I can’t be a party to his execution, nor can I stand idly by while he is killed.” Michael looked away, the anguish plain on his face.

“You’re cut off from heaven.”

Michael nodded. “I’m sorry I took what you had left.”

Castiel finished tending the wound and sat down opposite him.

“You’ve changed.” It was a tentative remark. Michael had never been known for his even temper.

“I believe that this vessel, Dean, is more than a host for me. All that he was is still here, helping me see through new eyes.”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to take Michael’s hand, and Michael tightened his grip, nodding his thanks.

Gabriel watched them from outside the diner then glanced over at Sam who had walked over to the garage adjacent to the diner and sat down in the shade.

He slipped away without saying a word to Michael. He didn’t want to build up hope where there very likely wasn’t any to be had, but he had to try.

  


Charlie watched Sam through the blinds. He was sitting in the shade of the garage across from the diner, looking over at the big black car that he and his friend had driven up in. Michael walked up behind her and she jumped.

“He’s just sitting there.” Charlie didn’t know what to make of any of them.

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Why do you owe him?” Her curiosity outweighed her fear. She’d overheard talk of angels and God, words spoken earnestly, words that had rung true for all it couldn’t possibly have been.

“I took his brother away from him.” Michael watched the storm clouds gathering on the horizon then turned and spoke to the others in the room. “You need to leave, all of you.”

“You can’t order me out of my own place!” Harlan, Charlie’s boss, objected strongly to being kicked out, although secretly, he thought it might be a good idea to get away from the strangers with guns.

“You’ll be safe if you leave now. What they want will still be here.”

Although there were token protests, no-one put up much of a fight. Sam watched from his spot in the shade as the other occupants of the diner drove away in two cars.

Charlie sat next to Harlan as they headed towards the storm clouds. She shivered and glanced back as they passed through the storm and out the other side. She could have sworn she heard wings as they drove through the unseasonal rain, and wondered if the time had come when the fate of the world that her fanatically religious mother always talked about would finally be decided.

Michael looked over at Sam as they left, then walked back inside.

Castiel had found a bottle of bourbon in Harlan’s office and was busy pouring shots of it into a row of small glasses. Michael frowned, but picked one of the glasses off the bar and drank it down. Two more followed, and he wondered if it was what his vessel needed.

"Why’s he still out there?" Michael asked Castiel.

"My guess would be that he can't stand to see you walking around wearing his brother."

"He's vulnerable on the perimeter."

"Even Dean would never actually refer to Sam as vulnerable." Castiel's eyes widened at the reaction Michael would get if he ever uttered those words in Sam's presence.

  


Sam let himself into one of the trailers parked close by. There was nowhere else to go. Michael was in the diner and Sam couldn't sand to look at him. It was cozy in the trailer. Pillows littered the small bed, and there were drawings and sketches on the walls. He lay down, hoping that Charlie and the others would escape to safety and survive what was coming.

Sam pulled the quilt over himself and buried his head in the pillows. He’d been driving for two days straight and he needed to rest. His eyes closed and sleep caught up with him in no time at all.

 _Sam walked through lush vegetation. Tall trees towered over him, and sunlight snuck through where it could, dappling the forest floor with light. He walked on, drawn by a soft roar that wasn’t too far ahead. Under his feet the moss was damp and held his footprints long after he’d walked over it. The trees began to thin out, then he was standing out in the sunlight, on the edge of a wild coastline. The wind, a little more than a breeze, stirred through his hair, and across his face. He could taste salt, and recognized the roar as waves breaking on the shore. He hesitated before he stepped onto the sand._

 _Memories of a parched, dry dessert fluttered through his mind, but he could see that this was different. This time, the sand was cool, welcoming. He stepped onto it, and wiggled his toes, digging them into the moist sand. He began to walk along the beach, slowly angling closer to the water’s edge, taking his time._

 _Now, the sand was wet and dark, and when he looked behind him, he could see his footprints leading back into the trees. He moved on, close enough to the sea now that the chilled water lapped at his feet._

 _He stopped and turned to look out over the water, at the far horizon. As water began to lap his ankles, he realized that the tide had turned. It was soon up to his knees, and he took a step back._

 _Arms wrapped around him from behind and his breath hitched._

 _“Time to go, Sammy.”_

 _“But I want to stay here with you,” Sam leaned back, closing his eyes._

 _“I won’t be here for much longer.”_

 _“I don’t know what’s out there.”_

 _“That’s the whole point.” Dean smiled against his neck. “There’s a whole ocean of uncertainty waiting for you. One day, you’ll find the surface.”_

 _“Will I see you again?” Sam was forlorn._

 _“I’m always with you, Sammy, you know that.”_

 _By now, the water was up to his thighs, and it wasn’t as cold as he’d expected._

 _“Close your eyes,” Dean whispered in his ear._

 _Sam did as instructed, and let the water cover him completely. Dean dissolved around him, wrapping him up in love and light and Sam slowly sank deeper and deeper into the sea._

Sam woke and blinked at the light for a moment, unsure of where he was. Then it all came back to him.

Michael was waiting in the diner. Sam didn’t know why the archangel was so hell bent on keeping him alive. It couldn’t matter to him one way or another. Sam sighed, rolled over and checked his watch. He’d only been asleep for half an hour. Hardly time to rest up properly, but it would have to do.

One way or another he wanted this over. His own options had narrowed down to fight or flight. Take off in the Impala, or stay and find out what the hell Michael was doing there. The storm that was fast approaching wasn’t natural, and it was headed straight towards them. It didn’t look good, and he’d rather know what was coming. Grudgingly, he left the trailer and walked back out into the sun, towards the diner.

The door swung open and a worried Castiel stepped out. He stopped when he saw Sam, and he smiled as he got closer.

“Where is he?”

“He’s through the back. Hear him out, Sam.”

Sam huffed out a breath, but strode through to the small office, where Michael was waiting for him. Back in the diner, Castiel decided to fetch whatever might be useful from the Impala and the car Michael had arrived in. It turned out that Michael had arrived with an arsenal. A handful of angel killing blades and a trunk full of guns and ammo. Some of Dean had definitely rubbed off on his brother, Castiel mused.

  


“What were you sorry for?” Sam demanded.

“For taking Dean away from you.”

“I might have done the same thing in your position,” Sam admitted.

Michael shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t. Neither would Dean.”

“How do you know what Dean would have done?” Sam looked at Michael, but he saw Dean.

“Your brother has seeped into me, burrowed deep into my consciousness, soaked into me and found me wanting.” Michael wondered if Sam could have done the same for Lucifer if his brother hadn’t been too far gone, too warped by his time in the cage.

“Dean’s part of you?” Sam paled.

“He’s become part of me, yes.” Michael moved closer and Sam found himself examining his face, not really sure what he was looking for.

“God wants you dead, Sam. But I can’t allow that to happen.”

“They’re coming for me?”

“Yes, but I won’t let them kill you.”

“You and who’s army?” Sam snorted.

“I still have faith, Sam, it’s all I have left.”

Sam shook his head. Three of them against an angelic army and Lucifer and his followers. He didn’t like the odds. He missed his brother, even though, in a way, he was right there with him.

“It hurts to look at you, to see his face and know he’s not there anymore.” Sam looked away from Michael.

“I’m sorry for taking him away from you.” Michael reached out and touched Sam’s face. “I know what you meant to each other.

Sam looked back, still not trusting him entirely. He blushed at the thought of Michael knowing exactly how it had been between him and Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Michael murmured again but this time, he was so close that Sam could feel the words gust over his cheek.

Sam turned his head and in the dim light, he pretended that it was Dean, his brother, his life. He closed the gap between them, pressed his lips against a familiar mouth. He wanted so much for it to be real that he kept his eyes tightly closed, waiting for Michael to pull away, but Michael didn’t.

Michael stilled, as if he was considering his actions. Sam whimpered, horrified at how needy and broken the small sound was.

But then Michael was kissing him and Sam’s world narrowed down to that moment. Sam’s hands clawed at the finely woven shirt he’s never seen before. Michael pulled it off over his head, hardly breaking contact. Sure and steady fingers unbuttoned Sam’s jeans and eased the zip down. Sam lost himself in the fantasy that it was Dean who was in control of the body in his arms and he bucked up into the contact as Michael slipped his hand down over Sam’s flat stomach and into his pants to palm his cock.

Sam’s fingers were shaking too much to return the favor so Michael did it for him, freeing his own dick. He pushed Sam hard against the wall, pushed his hard flesh against Sam’s.

Sam grabbed Michael’s … Dean’s ass and pulled them closer together but Michael took control back before Sam can react and pinned his hands over his head. With a sigh, Michael took both their cocks in one hand. He worked them fast, almost furious, mauling Sam’s mouth and letting loose a litany of arcane words when he came, biting down on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam convulsed, body shuddering as Michael’s hot release hit his belly. His own orgasm ripped through him and he didn’t try to stifle the sob that wracked him as his come joined Michael’s. Their bodies melted together, any urgency dulled for now.

Sam didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face reality. He could have lived in the fantasy for the rest of his days, the fantasy that it was Dean holding him, Dean kissing his neck, Dean running soothing hands down his back.

But that’s all it was. Fantasy.

Sam pushed Michael away, avoiding the blue eyes that should be green. He wiped himself clean and tucked away his spent dick. He watched Michael do the same, eyes widening at the sight of marks across Michael’s back and down over both his shoulders.

“Dean didn’t have tattoos,” Sam accused.

“They aren’t tattoos. I am soaking into him as he has soaked into me.”

Sam watched Michael walk across to the window and peer outside through the blinds.

“I will always wonder if you could have saved my brother, shown him the truth as Dean has shown me, but it’s too late for that,” Michael mused, almost to himself. “My arrogance made Lucifer what he is, my absolute surety that he was irredeemable. If I had known then what I know now …” He shook his head.

Rain began to splatter against the windows and wind whipped around the diner, rattling the doors. Castiel appeared at the door, holding out weapons.

“Lucifer. He’s here.”

  


Armed with two blades, Sam peered out of a crack in the blinds. The rain had ceased, but the cloud remained, blocking out the sun and turning day to night. He could see figures in the darkness, demons surrounding the diner.

“Why don’t they attack?” Sam asked. If this was how he was going to go, then he wanted it over with. They didn’t stand a chance against the force surrounding them, and soon, there would be more.

“Lucifer won’t want you harmed.”

“He has to know that I’m never gonna say yes.”

“If I know my brother, he thinks he’ll have leverage.”

“What?”

“I have to kill him, Sam. I have to fight him and I have to win. He’s arrogant enough not to consider failure, even though he’s weakened. If he can get the upper hand, he could use your love for Dean to force you to say yes. But you can’t let him do that. No matter what happens, you can’t say yes. For Dean’s sake.”

Michael pressed his lips against Sam’s, much to Castiel’s surprise, opened the door and walked out to meet his brother.

He was shocked to see how fast Nick was decaying around Lucifer.

“Lucifer.”

“Michael. It’s time, brother. You cannot deny me my true vessel. The only way to do this is if we’re evenly matched.”

“Sam will never say yes, and I can’t let you walk away.”

“Let me?” Lucifer scoffed. “You don’t hold any sway over me, Michael.” He snapped his fingers.

Meg and Reuben were immediately at his side.

“Find him and bring him to me.”

Michael stepped in front of them, but two demons grabbed hold of his arms and held him back. Shocked at how little power he had left, he struggled, but they held him tight.

As Meg and Reuben approached, Castiel stood firm.

“Clarence!” Meg smirked and rolled her hips as she approached Castiel. “Give me the boy and I’ll make you feel real good. You know that I can.” She winked and reached out to towards him.

“Don’t touch me,” Castiel spat and moved back.

“Aw, come on, you can’t keep me from dragging his ass out here, so why try? What’s it feel like to be all out of mojo?” she smirked at him and Reuben moved up behind her.

Lightening fast, Meg grabbed Castiel, holding a knife to his throat.

“Enough!” The door to the diner slammed open and Sam strode out. “Let him go, Meg.”

“Come over here, Sammy,” Meg ordered.

Sam reluctantly did as he was told. She shoved him towards Lucifer and forced him to his knees. Sam looked up at Michael, who stared down at him with sadness in his eyes.

Lucifer gazed at Michael.

“You aren’t yourself, are you?” He walked up to him and punched him in the stomach. Michael winced and doubled over, gasping for breath. “So the great warrior of heaven isn’t in Daddy’s good graces anymore?” He grabbed hold of Michael’s short hair and pulled his head back. “How does it feel? To be the bad son, the black sheep of the family? How does it feel, Michael?” Lucifer sneered and backhanded him.

Michael coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“How does it feel to be outnumbered?” Gabriel appeared at Michael’s side, snapped his fingers and the two demons that had been holding him disappeared.

Around them, the sky was suddenly filled with angels, who alighted and surrounded the diner.

“Gabriel,” Lucifer glared at his brother.

“You wanted to be evenly matched? I’d say looking at the two of you, you’ve got what you want.”

Gabriel stood in front of Sam as he got to his feet, shielding him from harm. He pushed him back towards Castiel, and stood with his arms folded. One way or another, he wanted this over and the heavenly host were there to witness it.

Michael nodded at Gabriel, but before he could move, Lucifer charged at him, pushing him to the ground. Anger drove him, and his fists flew. Again and again, he hit out at Michael, who squirmed away, hands raised to protect himself. He landed a blows himself, and the circle of demons and angels around them widened as they fought. Lucifer stumbled, but as his hand touched the dirt, his fingers curled around a tow rope left in a pile near the pumps. He picked it up, and kicked out viciously as Michael came at him. As Michael went down, Lucifer wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled tight.

Frantic, Michael struggled, pulling away only to be yanked back down again, until Lucifer had his knee on Michael’s back, holding him down. Michael’s mouth filled with dust as he struggled to breath.

On the sidelines, Gabriel held Sam and Castiel back.

“He has to do it himself. They have to see this.” He warned under his breath.

Michael’s vision began to blur, and he realized that he would lose and Sam would be at Lucifer’s mercy. He glanced across at him, saw the pain in Sam’s eyes at watching Dean get beaten, and knew he couldn’t lose.

He reached around for something, anything, that could help him, and his hand hit cold metal. He picked the crowbar up and bucked one more time, dislodging Lucifer just enough to turn and swing the bar towards his head. It landed with a sickening thud. Lucifer’s grip on the rope faltered, then loosened and he fell back.

Lucifer lay on the ground, an ugly wound on the side of his head leaking light into the pale dawn. He tried to push up on to his elbows, but he trembled and fell back. Michael approached, keeping the crowbar as steady as he could in a hand that was shaking badly.

"Finish it," Lucifer wheezed.

"No, It's not what He wanted."

"I don't want to go back," Lucifer gazed up at his brother, his eyes damp. "Please, Michael, end it now."

Michael knelt on the grass and cradled Lucifer's head on his lap. "I can't."

Lucifer grasped his arm, fingers digging in. "Please, don't leave me alone in the dark again, finish it now."

Michael shook his head.

"You can't condemn me to an eternity in darkness because you aren't strong enough to kill me. If you ever loved me, you’ll end it now."

“I still love you.” Tears rolled down Michael’s face as he looked up at Gabriel. The archangel brought him an angel blade then backed off, bowing his head. Michael put the point at Lucifer’s throat.

Lucifer looked up at him and covered Michael’s hand with his own. He nodded and closed his eyes. Michael took a breath and with a roar, slammed the blade into Lucifer’s neck, pushing it in to the hilt.

Sam and Castiel threw themselves to the floor. Gabriel spread his wings and covered them, shielding his own eyes as a blinding shockwave rippled out from where Michael cradled his dead brother in his arms.

Even before the death blow, the demons left, slipping away from the heavenly host, before the angels turned on them. But the angels waited.

Gabriel crouched down at Michael’s side. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“He’s gone. Let me deal with his vessel.”

Michael nodded and sighed as Gabriel and Nick’s body disappeared. Sam and Castiel walked over to where he sat in the dirt and helped him to his feet. His face was badly bruised and there were angry marks all around his neck. He let Sam support him as they led him back to the diner. The gathered angels watched them, and Sam was glad to shut the door once they were in, and hide from their inscrutable gazes.

“What are _they_ waiting for?”

“They wait for Raphael.” Castiel helped Sam settle Michael in one of the booths. He slumped forward onto the table.

“And what are we waiting for?” Sam asked.

“A miracle,” Castiel whispered.

The door to the diner burst inwards, shards of glass and metal flying in all directions. Raphael strode in, followed handful of angels loyal to him.

Michael forced himself to his feet and stood in front of Sam.

“What are you doing, Michael?” There was disgust in Raphael’s voice. “Why, even now, do you try to protect this mud monkey?”

“What I must.”

“Then you will die, along with the boy.”

“The boy does not deserve to die.”

“God wants this!” Raphael thundered.

“It is not what God needs.”

“You’ve changed, Michael. You would defy your Father for one insignificant human?”

“No human is insignificant. This is my one true vessel. This human was made for me to inhabit, he isn’t simply a willing host I picked up by the side of the road. He is my father’s creation, and so I must believe that my Father knew exactly how my allegiances would change when I became one with him.”

“Are you saying that this human is controlling you?”

“No, but his humanity has seeped into me, and I see the world, I see heaven and hell, in a different light.”

“He poisoned you!”

“He opened my eyes.”

“So now you rebel against your Father to save one man?”

“Yes.”

Michael smiled to himself at the irony. Dean rebelled against his own father when it came to Sam, when it came to going against John Winchester’s orders to kill his brother, and now Michael would do the same. He would defy his Father to save a man who could have damned the world for all eternity.

At Michael’s confirmation of rebellion, one of Raphael’s followers launched himself past Michael at Sam, the wicked blade in his hand slicing through the air.

“No!” Castiel threw himself towards them, pushing Sam out of the way and deflecting the blow.

Distracted, Michael didn’t see Raphael move until it was almost too late. The angel had the advantage over Michael of having his full powers and Michael cursed inwardly at the lack, and the weakness of a human body that had taken a brutal beating. Raphael pushed Michael back until he was pressed against the counter.

“I gave everything for you, and this is how you repay my loyalty?” Raphael growled. “You side with them?”

“I side with what is right.” Michael struggled, but Raphael held him fast, bringing the tip of the blade up to Michael’s exposed throat. But the killing blow never came. Sam crawled forward just enough to slice at Raphael’s leg with an angel killing blade. Raphael growled, and kicked out at Sam, sending him sprawling across the floor, clutching his stomach where the toe of Raphael’s boot had caught him with full force.

Michael staggered away from Raphael, clutching a blade in his hand. He looked over to see Sam lying in a heap on the floor, knife in his hand, his chest heaving.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got your back.”

“Enough!” Raphael shouted, and the angel that had Castiel pinned to the floor backed off. “You cannot save him. You are but one amongst many, Michael. If he sets foot out of the door, he’ll be torn apart.”

“No he won’t.” Castiel struggled to his feet and squared up to Raphael. “The host of heaven has followed Michael since time began. He is their leader, not you. None of them has seen God for a very long time, so they wait. They will not follow you unless Michael dies.”

“That can be arranged.” Raphael launched himself at Michael, but Michael dodged out of the way.

“Get him out of here,” Michael yelled at Castiel.

“No! I’m not leaving you,” Sam argued.

“I’m not him, Sam, I’m not Dean. Leave while you can. He would have wanted you to live.”

Castiel pulled Sam away. He opened the door to see a throng of angels clustered around the door. At the sight of Sam, they drew back.

“Why don’t they attack?”

“Because the decision hasn’t yet been made.” Gabriel landed among the angels, causing them to scatter. “Just as some angels follow Raphael, many still follow Michael. Enough of them to cause a rift in heaven if you are harmed.” Gabriel nodded at Sam. “Get him out of here.”

“No.” Stubbornly, Sam turned back and left the angels staring at each other. He ran back into the diner, stopping still with shock at the carnage in front of him.

Michael was on his knees and as Sam watched, Raphael plunged his sword into Michael’s chest. The archangel lit up from the inside, body spasming, jerking as he died. There was a blinding flash, and a shockwave radiated out into the night, felling everything in its path. Sam hunkered down behind the counter, only emerging once the light had faded.

Sam let out a strangled sob and fell to his knees. Everything they’d been through, everything Dean had given up, was all for nothing. Grief tore at him. Raphael had won, and would take revenge on mankind after he’d dealt with Sam. Sam looked up at the triumphant angel, ready for the killing blow to fall, defiant to the end, but knowing he’d lost everything.

Righteousness looked smug on Raphael’s face, but a light behind the angel drew Sam’s gaze upwards, and he fell backwards, sprawling, eyes wide.

Michael, wings wide and magnificent, landed almost silently behind Raphael who spun round to face him.

“No, it’s not possible. You disobeyed!”

“I gave him what he needed,” Michael smiled.

Sam was struck by the way it gave Dean’s face a look of serenity, something Sam had never seen there before.

“Michael?”

“I have work to do.”

With that, and a wink that made Sam pale as it was all Dean, Michael left, taking the host of heaven with him.

Castiel walked back in to the diner, his power restored just as Michael’s had been.

“I want to see,” Sam pleaded. “I’ve come this far, Cas, I want to be there at the end.”

Castiel nodded, then reached forward and touched Sam’s forehead. A second later and they were standing looking over a town which had been turned into a battlefield. Sam watched as Michael flew down from the sky, sword blazing, full of righteous power. He was beautiful and terrible. He turned, seeing Sam at the side of the battlefield, and saluted him.

As they watched, Sam asked if Dean could have survived being ridden by Michael

“He was Michael’s true vessel, so perhaps there is a chance.” Cas didn’t sound convincing, even to himself.

  


**  
[Part Three](http://delanach.livejournal.com/31507.html#cutid1)   
**


	4. Legion Part Three

_  
**Legion Part Three**   
_   
  


  


_Sam liked it at the bottom of the ocean. It was safe and warm and there wasn’t an angel to be found. He floated for a while, eyes closed, water moving him this way and that. Slowly, he became aware of a soft light. He opened his eyes, and looked up. Sunlight streamed down into the water, beckoning him to move closer to the surface._

 _He swam upwards, strong arms moving gracefully through the water, pulling him towards the surface, faster and faster, momentum gathering until he burst up into the light, breathing air again for the first time in a long time, taking in deep lungfuls and raising his face to the sun …_

  
Sam woke slowly, his face pressed against Dean’s shoulder. He lay for a while, luxuriating in the way he was wrapped up in his brother’s arms, Dean’s scent filling him. Eventually, he cracked open his eyes and did what he’d done every morning since Michael had left and Dean had come back to him. He quietly studied the marks on Dean’s skin.

Lines of Enochian script ran down Dean’s arms and legs now, and wove patterns across his shoulders and down his back. Soon, Sam wanted to start deciphering them, curious as to the legacy the archangel had left them with, but not yet.

Sam had Dean back now, and he didn’t want to let go for a while.

Fingers carded through Sam’s hair, dragging deliciously over his scalp.

“You think too much,” Dean accused sleepily. “I can hear your brain whirring around in there.”

Dean’s arm tightened around Sam, and Sam squirmed closer. They lay in silence for a while.

“Dean, do you think …?”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I was gonna ask.” Sam raised his head to look at Dean.

“Yeah I do. You were gonna ask if I thought that you could have saved Lucifer if you’d said yes. You couldn’t have saved him, Sammy, he was too far gone.”

“You made Michael see sense.”

“It’s not like I told him what to do. The dude mind-melded with me while he was in here. Lucifer was insane, he’d been down in the cage for so long, he’d never have seen reason. Michael was an arrogant dick, but whatever happened when he was inside me, made him realize he was wrong, helped him to do the right thing.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Sam whispered.

Dean moved his hand from Sam’s hair to cup his cheek, and he bent his head forward to place a reverent kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t the first time Dean had apologized since Michael had released him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Not once had Sam told him it was okay, because although his decision had proved to be a way to save most of humanity, he’d left Sam alone. Again. It wasn’t something Sam could brush off and forget about that easily, but having Dean back and close was helping him deal with losing him. It would be a while before he would be able to let Dean out of his sight.

Sam surged against Dean, kissing him, pressing him back against the pillows. Dean kissed him back, digging his fingers in his hair, pushing his hips up to meet Sam’s.

“He touched you,” Dean growled. “I saw you, just like I saw everything else. It’s like a dream that fades in and out. You were hurting and I felt it, wanted to be with you …”

“I thought you were gone, but you were right there in front of me.”

Words tumbled from both of them as they pulled each other closer. There was an urgency behind their touches that hadn’t abated since Dean woke up to find Sam sitting next to him, watching him, waiting for him.

Sam straddled Dean’s hips. He bent down and kissed him as Dean’s hands ran down his back. Fingers scraped over his hole, still slick from hours before. A long finger pushed inside and Sam gasped out a breath over Dean’s mouth, rocking back to push the finger deeper.

Dean added another, but quickly got impatient for more. His dick ached as he pushed up into Sam inch by inch until Sam was sitting on his lap, twisting his hips from side to side to increase the pressure against his prostate.

“Can you come like this, without being touched?” Dean asked as Sam sat back, looking down at Dean as Dean admired the view of Sam’s hard leaking cock.

“Maybe,” he murmured as he continued to move.

Dean thrust up, small movements designed to slide over the sensitive spot and make Sam shudder as he rode Dean. Sam put his hands on Dean’s chest, steadying himself. Slowly, his back arched, until his dick was almost presented to Dean, red and needy. It took a lot for Dean not to take it in his hand and work it fast and hard. Instead he watched the pearly drops of pre come ooze from the tip and slide down. He licked his lips and gripped Sam’s hips harder, fucking Sam as Sam worked himself to a frenzy, lifting almost all the way off now, and slamming back down.

“Dean, fuck ….”

Dean pushed Sam down again, hard, needing the clench around his own dick, wanting that feel of being milked dry by Sam’s body.

Sam groaned, long and drawn out, and then he was coming, come spurting over Dean’s stomach and chest, landing across his nipples. Dean lost it, slamming into Sam, hips twitching, dick pulsing as he came, filling his brother again, claiming him after an angel had touched him.

It didn’t matter that the angel had worn his face, his body, it didn’t even matter that he’d technically been there at the time, Sam was his and no-one else got to touch him like that.

Sam was still dazed when Dean pulled him down to the bed and cleaned them both up. He wrapped his arms around him and held him close as they both dozed. Outside the motel, the world was a different place than it had been a week earlier. Dean knew they’d have to face it sometime, and they still owed Bobby a visit so he could see that they were alive and well, but not yet.

Dean looked at his arms and wondered what the angel scratches meant. Sam would figure it out, he knew that. And Michael had promised him that it was over. Now Lucifer had been defeated, there was no need for Michael to use Dean again. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the angel, but it would take him a long time to stop looking over his shoulder and wondering.

Sam snuffled against his shoulder and Dean smiled. Sam was what was important now, as he always had been, and Dean didn’t give a damn what they should be doing, what fugly hell spawn had crawled out of the pit while they’d been sleeping. It could all wait, just a little longer.

The world could give them time, it owed them that at least.

  


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